Scions of the Storm

Dragonmarked Heir adventures

In which the heroes enter the Mournland

With their last preparations complete, the Storm Hammer set out from Falconer’s Spire and raced northeast, across the Thunder Sea. The weather remained suspiciously calm, with no trace of the often-encountered unfettered elementals known to plague the skies. The airship skirted the southern edge of Zilargo’s territorial waters before turning north to follow the edge of Darguun’s border into Kraken Bay. A grey smudge on the horizon grew larger as they approached landfall, resolving itself into a wall of swirling, dead-grey mist that stretched from ground level to mingle with the ever-present clouds hanging overhead.

To those whose eyes were attuned to the arcane, the mists flickered with tantalizing suggestions of auras, hints and allegations rather than statements about the eldritch forces that had been unleashed within. The Mournland held its secrets close, with neither Khair nor Adamai able to answer the riddle of the forces lurking within.

For several long moments, the adventurers held the airship in position, considering the enigmatic wall of silent vapors marking the end of the natural world. Of all aboard the Storm Hammer, only Khair had ever set foot in the Mournland, and his copper-hued eyes were grim as he set a beacon behind the airship, a floating symbol of golden light that would remain behind them, enabling them to find their way out of the Mournland should they lose their way.

Then Daneira urged the vessel forward, entering the mists, and as the light changed to a translucent grey, all sound fled the world, save for the resounding thunder of each individual’s heartbeat, pounding in their respective ears. The wind in the rigging, the waves below the vessel — all silent as the mists enveloped them, save for the faintest suggestion of a scream in the distance. There was no sensation of movement, no caress of wind, even the elemental ring itself was eerily silent as they pushed into the border zone. Everything was grim and shadowed and silent; even time itself seemed to have stopped, held captive in the strange space between the living world and the Mournland.

And then they emerged from the mists, and saw the world of horror below them. Seaside, once an idyllic oceanside community, lay silent and dead below them, reaching back into the misty border from which the Storm Hammer had just emerged. Bodies littered the streets, some appearing as if they had fallen only moments before in a vain attempt to escape the inevitable annihilation coming behind them. Beneath the clouds and mists, all was grey and lifeless, the hillsides swept clean of all living vegetation and drained of all color. The smell of the ocean was completely absent on this side of the mists, the only sound around them was the faintest sighing of air in the rigging.

Khair directed Daneira to fly north, the Storm Hammer gathering speed as it passed over the blasted landscape. Here and there small stands of sickly or dead trees marked the hills, skeletal hedgerows outlining fields or paths. After a double handful of miles, they passed over a village, likewise shattered and bare of human life, though the skeletons of farm animals still walked and nosed among the rocks and dust for nonexistent forage.

The Storm Hammer followed the eastern border of the Mournlands north, aiming for their first stopover point of Lake Brellik. But as night drew closer, they saw a ruddy glow on the horizon, a vivid scarlet stain on the lifeless landscape, which resolved itself into a glowing body of water — what had once been Lake Brellik, but was now more accurately described as the Crimson Water.

“That looks absolutely safe. Good call.” Adamai shook his head.

“On the positive side, we’ll be able to see anything coming at us.”

“Not a real positive, I feel.” Adamai paced off the Storm Hammer, laying magical alarms around the decks and gangways. Daneira changed the watch, setting the House marines in pairs under everbright lanterns. And though the ship was left unmolested throughout the lightless Mournland night, none slept well, seeing walls of moving fog sweeping across the land, scything it clean of life. Even Adamai and Khair, veterans of many perilous ventures, found their dreams troubled and their sleep uneasy, feeling the enormous forces that had created the Mournland still burning under the surface. It was with tired eyes and weary countenances that they greeted the grey dawn.

Khair emerged from his cabin rubbing his chin reflectively, then glanced over at Adamai. “You probably wouldn’t notice, being a half elf, but that’s what I always recall most about the Midnight Marches I undertook with Thrane military units. Our beards all stopped growing from the moment we set foot in the mists.”

“You really entered the Mournlands after the Day of Mourning?”

“Yes, though it was far to the north of here. We crossed Scions Sound to strike at Karrnath. I never saw anything down here, though seeing the earth trying to destroy itself in the Field of Elementals was harrowing enough.” His expression was tight, clearly troubled by his memories of the war. “I heard stories about the Field of Ruin, on the western side of the Mournland. There were whole armies there; the Western Army of Cyre, facing off with the Third Legate of the Silver Flame, a force out of Breland, even an army from Darguun. All locked in combat when the Mourning struck.” His eyes, glowing the shade of molten copper, were distant as he spoke. “They told me that there were bodies that were still warm, blood still dripping from the wounds that spilled out their lives before the Mourning. Four years, and it still hasn’t dried. Massive war machines and constructs loom over the battlefield, mute monuments to the slain.”

Adamai sighed. “I cannot conceive of any power that could do this, unless the gods themselves elected to wipe Cyre from the map.”

“Nor I, my friend, and I speak as someone who has been in the core of an eldritch machine.”

Adamai checked his swordbelt and component pouches before setting his jaw grimly. “Let’s get started.”

Daneira’s first mate took the helm, turning the Storm Hammer west, heading for central Cyre. Khair kept the mate company, offering the best guidance that he could in a land that looked nothing alike to his memories. Of all the crew, only he had ever been to Making, and even he was often at a loss to discern between landmarks.

Soon after they launched, they spied movement for the first time since entering the Mournland. Adamai unhooked a spyglass from his belt, and trained it on the moving shapes, shapes that resolved into riders, Valenar warriors on Valenar warhorses. But they were a training warband, for it was clear that these warriors had been affected by the environment. Their steeds’ coats were streaked with red, and their maws were filled with fangs. The elf warriors themselves were clad in the remnants of Valenar garb, tattered and patched with suspicious-looking leather swatches, all streaked with rusty browns and crimson. Even the whites of warriors’ eyes were suffused with red, as though the bloodlust had stained their very souls.

Adamai and Khair only needed to share a glance before unleashing their magic, burning the accursed Valenar and their steeds to smoking bones in a wash of fire and acid. “Even less reason to linger,” was Adamai’s only comment.

A smudge of darker grey on the horizon soon revealed itself to be a rearing escarpment of jagged obsidian and quartz, forcing the Storm Hammer to rise nearly to the cloud deck above the landscape. From above, the Glass Plateau was eerily smooth, ripples and waves in the surface making it seem like a stormy sea frozen solid in an instant. Whorls and streaks of color hid deep within the glass, bloody red, scorched black, and bone white flickering in the corner of the eye as the crew looked down. Here and there lights seemed to pulse within the surface, only to vanish when looked at directly. Khair moved up to the prow of the Storm Hammer, casting forth a brilliant beam of radiance at the glass to better illumenate their quarry.

The Storm Hammer drifted forward slowly, the unbroken surface of the Glass Plateau stretching before them, until Khair’s voice rang out, calling for a halt. Adamai hurried forward, eager for his first sight of Making, but was surprised to see only obsidian stretching before them. “Khair, what is it?”

“Look there.” Khair turned his hands, the lance of golden light streaking into the glass, throwing spears of radiance through the surface.

And as he watched, the shadows grew coherent, resolving themselves into buildings and streets, the shadows forming lanes between them. As Khair moved the light, the city grew, the light revealing other neighborhoods and districts beneath the surface.

The two veteran adventurers looked at each other, and nodded. Neither had dared to believe that this trip would be easy. . .

Uncivil Civilization

House Lyrandar’s greatest opportunity since the end of the Last War new rests in the hands of its most capable operative — Adamai d’Lyrandar. Tasked to find a creation pattern long lost in the Mournland, Adamai left the House’s secret enclave in the wilds of Xen’drik. Delving into the Mournland would take significant preparation, as the land was devastated by the aftermath of the Day of Mourning and utterly hostile to natural life. Healing spells and potions would not work within the dead-grey mists of the Mournland, and primal magical forces still played over the blasted landscape, twisting and destroying everything in their path.

The first step for Adamai and Khair was to provision their expedition. To do so, the pair returned to Stormreach, the Pirate Haven, seeking to secure supplies, magical components, and maps of Cyre by which to plot their journey. Upon their arrival at Falconer’s Spire, the band split up, with Adamai and his cousin Daneira loading the Storm Hammer, Khair gathering information from survivors of the Day of Mourning, and Khair’s apprentice Kelembra dispatched to the neighborhood of Dannel’s Pride to secure a pre-cataclysm map of Cyre.

Adamai and Khair completed their tasks without particular moment; the experienced adventurers were adept at keeping a low profile despite their skills and abilities. Kelembra, however, ran into problems. A former member of the Shrouds gang in Stormreach, Kelembra sought to avoid her former associates, as Whisper, the leader of the Shrouds, did not forgive those that left the gang. She was spotted by an informant in the Marketplace and captured by the Shrouds soon after. Taken to the Shrouds’ spell-guarded lair beneath the streets of Respite, Kelembra faced the prospect that nightfall would see her rebirth into an undead minion of the gang.

When Kelembra didn’t return, her master used his formidable arcane abilities to locate her, and wasted no time teleporting himself and Adamai into the dungeon where Kelembra was held. despite the magical protections woven into the walls. Following their usual pattern of springing traps by leaping into them, the pair engaged Whisper, her brother Rashade (now transformed into a bodak), and three of the gang’s incorporeal members. Despite their potent death-magic, Adamai’s spell and blade-work and Khair’s mystical might proved mightier, laying the Shrouds to rest in their sepulcher beneath the streets of Stormreach.

Before leaving the crypt, Khair found Whisper’s divine focus, revealing that she had not been a priestess of the Keeper (as Kelembra had always thought), but was a student of a darker philosophy: the mysteries of the Qabalrin necromancers, the first and darkest elven civilization in Xen’drik, of which the Blood of Vol was merely the most recent and tamest offshoot. Recognizing this, Khair made sure to utterly destroy Whisper’s and her brother’s bodies, knowing even then that death may not be the end for either of them . . .

House Lyrandar’s hidden enclave has grown significantly in the last few months, becoming a functional and surprisingly self-sufficient outpost in the wilds of central Xen’drik. A phenomenal amount of magical power has been expended, both to ensure the sustainability of the enclave, and to provide for its security; these are the wilds of the lost continent, after all. A forty-foot high wall of stone, iron-hard wood, and thorns stands on the lip of the ravine encircling the encampment, ensuring that even a determined giant would be hard-pressed to wander into the area. The Storm Hammer is generally docked at the top of the Spire, keeping a steady watch over the surrounding jungles and making the occasional supply run to Stormreach.

Two other airships, guided by Adamai and Khair, have ferried House personnel to the site, bringing warriors, shipwrights, artificers, and staff to support the enclave. A full company of Lyrandar marines to provide the main defense of the enclave, conducting patrols in the surrounding wilderness, manning the siege engines atop the wall, and are even supported by a handful of druids and rangers affiliated with the Raincallers Guild. With these forces (and their animal companions) maintaining an effective watch, Adamai and Khair have been able to turn their attention to other matters within the walls.

The Spire is the central feature of the outpost, fully powered and restored thanks to the combined efforts of Khair and Trelmarian d’Lyrandar, the House Mage. Trelmarian teleports into the outpost twice each month, bringing house members, supplies, and lending his significant magical abilities to the outpost for a week at a time before returning to Stormhome. In his absence, Masansk d’Lyrandar, a powerful druid and leader in the Raincaller’s Guild, is the de facto leader of the enclave, though he is careful to include Adamai in his councils and to make decisions jointly whenever possible. Perhaps unsurprisingly for a person with his profession, Masansk is no politician, and truly seems devoted to the protection and betterment of the House’s fortunes. The only other named member of the house is Daneira d’Lyrandar, the captain of the Storm Hammer and a longtime companion of Adamai and Khair, leaving the enclave relatively free of the politics that tend to dominate the Great Houses.

Apart from being in the middle of nowhere, the new enclave is a remarkably pleasant place to be. A deep well within the walls provides fresh water, and the junior Raincallers have small fields of cultivated plants near the enclave for both food supplies and to ensure a steady supply of hops for ale. Several new buildings have literally grown up within the walls, Masansk drawing wood and stone from the earth to provide raw materials for construction; various spellcasters within the house utilize spells and scrolls to shape wood and stone, ensuring that these buildings are nigh invulnerable to ordinary harm, and will probably withstand anything but a direct hit from a giant-hurled boulder or dragonfire. While the majority of the marines and workers live in dormitory-style rooms, everyone has both a modicum of privacy and a safe place to retreat in the event of significant trouble, something for which everyone is grateful.

There has even been enough time for Adamai and Khair to delve into the wilds of Khyber to claim a suitable dragonshard to house a bound elemental. That venture was mildly harrowing, but the two veteran adventurers were able to return to the surface largely unscathed with a large Khyber shard.

The schema from Ammultan have been installed into the core of the Spire, their arcane energies blending with that of the creation forge to enable the production of elemental vessels. A design for the first prototype has been drafted, though the soarwood brought in secretly from Aerenal, as Masansk is not prepared to harvest any of the soarwood trees found within the enclave. Unfortunately, the project has suffered a serious setback. Developing the anchor nodes for the vessel’s arcane matrix has proven problematical for the artificers and magi of Lyrandar, and it is rumored that there will be a meeting within the next month with several leaders in the House to see how you will collectively tackle the problem.

A blog for your campaign

While the wiki is great for organizing your campaign world, it’s not the best way to chronicle your adventures. For that purpose, you need a blog!

The Adventure Log will allow you to chronologically order the happenings of your campaign. It serves as the record of what has passed. After each gaming session, come to the Adventure Log and write up what happened. In time, it will grow into a great story!

Best of all, each Adventure Log post is also a wiki page! You can link back and forth with your wiki, characters, and so forth as you wish.

One final tip: Before you jump in and try to write up the entire history for your campaign, take a deep breath. Rather than spending days writing and getting exhausted, I would suggest writing a quick “Story So Far” with only a summary. Then, get back to gaming! Grow your Adventure Log over time, rather than all at once.

It takes a matter of weeks to finalize the arrangements in Stormreach, mostly because avoiding attention is the primary concern. If anything, Calynden d’Lyrandar is more paranoid than Adamai or Khair, insisting on the highest degree of secrecy, allowing only those members of House Lyrandar who were involved in the expedition to the creation forge to access the plates or the location. As the local viceroy, his authority is second only to Baron Esravash, who seems content to leave the arrangements to “The Kraken.” Required resources are delivered to Stormreach in small quantities, travelling by both Lyrandar and unassociated traders, to avoid attracting any overly-curious scrutiny. This extends the time involved, but Calynden will not be rushed.

Adamai and Khair both have ample time to study the metal plates, reviewing the instructions, spells, and infusions recorded indelibly in steel. The knowledge recorded in their shining surfaces deals with the entirety of magic of the four elements, from the manipulation of raw elemental power to the binding and channeling of energies and entities. But it is Khair who makes the most important discovery related to the plates.
As is usual for him, Khair obsesses over the plates, pouring over the inscriptions, translating, and drawing the symbols associated with each step of the elemental binding process. You find him deep in thought several times, runic patterns chalked on the floor of the storage vault, eldritch energies dancing in ripples and waves around him. But his relentless focus produces results; if not for his somewhat deranged interest, the deepest mystery of the plates may have remained undiscovered.
Khair calls the companions together late one night (in this case, Adamai, Kelembra, and Trelmarian d’Lyrandar, the lead wizard on this project, unless there’s anyone else you’re interested in including). Khair’s copper-colored eyes burn feverishly as he greets you. “I have finally found out what these are actually for.”
Trelmarian raises an eyebrow. “Other than containing the instructions for elemental binding?”
“Not just instructions, I think.” Khair’s smile is slightly manic. “There is more power in these than we first thought.”
Trelmarian shakes his head. “There isn’t any power in these that isn’t knowledge, Vanatar. They’re just instruction sheets.”
“Would you care to phrase that in the form of a wager? We found them in a production facility, rather like a Cannith manufactory.” Khair turns around, walking toward the plates. “Now, let’s see . . .”
Your companion lays his hands on the first of the plates, palms pressed against the metal. Immediately, a swirl of power surrounds him as Khair reaches deep into the well of power within him. The air ignites with coppery waves of energy, arcane force radiating from him. You and Trelmarian exchange a look, the wizard’s face a mask of panic at the thought of Khair damaging the plates.
Then you notice the glow.
Slowly, each of the engraved letters and symbols fills with light, the power radiating out from Khair’s touch suffusing the inscription. The plate itself is unharmed by the energy pouring from your companion, the metal only seeming to shine more brightly in the arcane display. In a few moments, all of the script on the plate is illuminated, and Khair lifts his hands from the metal. The glow remains constant, steady light filling the symbols.
“Now it is awake again.” Khair’s voice is slightly weary, but strengthens as he turns to face you. The spellmark on his forehead glows, mimicking the inscription on the plate behind him.
Trelmarian’s jaw drops. “How did you do that?”
“Sometimes, you need to use the right key to open the lock.” Khair turns to the next plate, re-activating each of them in turn. Adamai and Trelmarian examine the collection, reading the newly revived enchantments. Each one contains part of the procedures for the development of a vessel’s arcane matrix, ensorcelling the containment shard or binding struts, empowering an elemental effect, or enhancing the durability and resiliency of an object. The power infusing the plates, quiescent for millennia, surges through the vault, seeking to fulfill its purpose of empowering elemental energies.
One by one, the plates are transported to the creation forge by Trelmarian and Masansk d’Lyrandar, one of the leading Stormcallers (and who is arguably the most powerful druid in the house). Work begins immediately to fortify the site, with small teams of veteran warriors standing by to defend the tower. Magical construction techniques are used to build walls around the tower and create the shells of what will become laboratories and workshops. Adamai and Khair pitch in, both guarding the location from the local wildlife, and using their skills and powers to assist with the construction/ Within two months, the compound in the depths of Xen’drik’s jungles is secured, and a select team of spellcasters and artificers, lead by Trelmarian, are working on the development of a prototype elemental airship.

In which the Changer is revealed

Delethorn was ominously quiet as the adventurers arrived; suspiciously so, in fact. The town itself was in the grip of fear, terrorized by groups of roving thugs that forced the residents to stay off the streets most nights, and dealt harshly with those they called “uncooperative.” It wasn’t until Adamai and Khair publicly defeated a band of enforcers that the townsfolk began to provide information and assistance to the adventurers.

Following their requests, Adamai and Khair swept the streets that night, eliminating thugs one group after another. They trailed a group of smugglers to a house on the outskirts of Delethorn where the group’s local leaders were holed up before kicking in the doors and bringing the fight to them. In the basement of the house, Adamai and Khair confronted Welahayne, a self-proclaimed “priest of the Changer,” and his minions. It was only then that Adamai and Khair realized that they were dealing with a cult rather than simply criminals. But before they could kill the vile adept, he dumped two casks of the corrupting poison into the well beneath the house, and out of those poisoned waters burst a horrifically mutated crayfish, transformed into a monstrous chuul!

Already weary from a long night of battle, the chuul almost spelled doom for the adventurers. Calling upon their last reserves of physical and magical power, they finally burned the life out of the vile aberration with a combination of sorcery and magus arcana. In thanks for freeing Delethorn from the grip of the cult and their commitment to stopping the flow of corruption, the Wardens of the Wood bestowed a pair of seeds of knowledge upon the adventurers, furthering their arcane studies and empowering them to face the battles ahead.

Hershem d’Lyrandar was pleased to learn that Killian would no longer be able to blackmail him, and readily provided Adamai with the details of the smuggling route. He received the goods from a member of House Orien in the city of Passage, then brought them downriver to transfer to Killian just outside of Fairhaven. After a brief detour to eliminate the rest of Killian’s gang of smugglers, Adamai and Khair set out for Passage by lightning rail.

Rikard d’Orien was blissfully ignorant on the subject of magical poisons and eldritch mutation, but was about to point the adventurers in the right direction to locate the smuggler. The goods were being brought through Passage rather than produced there, and Rikard was able to help Adamai establish the schedule. With a few days to kill before the next shipment arrived, they hired their blades and spells out to assist a local noble out of a tight spot (the gullet of a bulette, as it turned out). Without a spellcaster to provide a regeneration spell, they were dispatched to recover the lordling’s missing limb before he expired and could not be raised from the dead.

“How will that bedsheet help us find the monster that ate Lord ir’Walan’s leg?” Adamai asked.

“It’s from a inn run by House Ghallanda, which means it smells like halflings. Since you won’t let me tie a halfling to the horse, it’s the next best way I can think of to lure a bulette out of the ground.” Khair replied.

“Will it be the right one?”

“How many bulettes could there be in one hunting ground?”

Only one, as it turned out, but the one was enough to nearly kill both of the adventurers. Only fast spellcasting and a great deal of luck kept the hunters from becoming the prey. They recovered the lordling’s limb, and were amply paid for their services.

Then, they set a trap for the smugglers. Mimicking the bulette they had so recently battled, they lay in wait below the waterline for the smugglers’ vessel to arrive. Khair and Adamai defeated the crew, but were once again confronted with magic of surprising strength in the hands of ostensibly simple criminals. The vessel itself was an elemental-bound skiff capable of crossing Lake Galifar in a day, piloted by Rappan Shade, an excoriate of House Lyrandar. Adamai took his villainous cousin into custody, confiscated the skiff, and beat the pickup location out of Rappan: Delethorn, in the Eldeen Reaches.

In which the operative tests his mettle

House Lyrandar, despite its frequent protests, was not unfamiliar with smuggling. They knew the value of a good shipment, down to the last copper piece, in most cases. What troubled Fathein d’Lyrandar, First Secretary of the Windwrights Guild in Fairhaven, was not that goods were potentially being smuggled via Lyrandar vessels, but that the House wasn’t getting its cut of the profits.

That was inexcusable.

Adamai and Khair were dispatched to the waterfront in Fairhaven to locate the suspicious shipments and figure out what was going on with the customs duties. Their path led them to the Whiteroof ward in Fairhaven, where the direct method of investigation let to an altercation with some riverfront bravos. They were easily dispatched, but they gave the adventurers their first lesson in bluffing the watch (and hiding the bodies).

Khair made some contacts with the criminals of Fairhaven, reasoning that the competition would keep the closest set of eyes on the smugglers. After proving their interests were only with the smuggling and not with any “ordinary decent criminals,” the pair were directed to the River Elf tavern by Kreelo, the boss of Fairhaven’s Dark Dagger gang. Kreelo has few friends in Aundair, and decided that an ally in House Lyrandar could be useful at some point.

At the River Elf, the adventurers encountered a vicious smuggler named Killian, who had coerced a Lyrandar captain into handling his goods. However, when Adamai questioned Killian more stringently, the pair met a conflict that they were not expecting: far from being cutthroats and thieves, the smugglers were well equipped with eldritch power, hurling spells and minor magical weapons at the pair. Adamai and Khair prevailed through superior spellcasting and force of arms, eventually beating the captain’s name out of Killian before dispatching him.

“Cutting him down like that didn’t bother you?” Khair asked.

“Of course it did, but it doesn’t make sense to leave him hanging around so that he can eventually come after us,” Adamai answered.

Khair shrugged. “Suits me.”

In the understructure of the River Elf, they discovered the smuggler’s stash, and Khair discovered something disquieting: The contraband goods were all consumables, cheese and wine for the most part, and had all been dosed with an arcane substance that, when taken in enough quantity, would cause a normal person to begin attracting, then producing symbionts, and eventually transform into an aberration.

Obviously there was more to this smuggling than just profit. The two resolved to continue their investigations.

The adventure begins

The Scion of the Storm refers to one person – a dragonmarked heir of House Lyrandar named Adamai. The young magus was selected by his elders to assume a special role in House Lyrandar, that of an operative: someone who, secretly or openly, handles “problems” for the organization, resolving issues whether it is through diplomacy or combat. Adamai is devoted to the good of his House and family, and faces the future with brash optimism and the boundless courage that youth and skill bring. The House Matriarch, Baron Esravash d’Lyrandar, envisions great things for her cousin.

Khair Vanatar was apprehended as a stowaway on a vessel coming into Stormhome, and would have been unceremoniously dumped over the side had it not been for the strange symbols resembling dragonmarks on his face and arms. The customs agents took him into custody, and were surprised when he almost managed to escape before the day was out. A person with formidable arcane skills (that the run-of-the-mill house magi had great difficulty countering), Khair swiftly came to the attention of Baron Esravash as a potential asset. She interviewed him personally, and her candor and honesty compelled the same from him. Learning about his history with House Cannith, the Baron made the eccentric arcanist a deal: serve House Lyrandar (in the form of her newest operative, Adamai d’Lyrandar) for five years, and the house would provide him with a new identity, a ring of mind shielding, and enough wealth to create a new life anywhere he wished. With enemies behind and no resources to speak of, Khair knew that this would be the best deal he could hope for, and agreed.